


syntrophy

by fractalbright



Series: all i need in this life of sin (is me and my girlfriend) [1]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Drug Dealing, F/F, On the Run
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-17
Updated: 2015-05-17
Packaged: 2018-03-30 22:30:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3954229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fractalbright/pseuds/fractalbright
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Yo, so tell me.” Ymir asks, over her glass. She tips the whiskey toward Krista in question. “How the hell does a pretty little thing like you get in the business?“</p>
            </blockquote>





	syntrophy

**Author's Note:**

> **SYNTROPHY** \- working together to achieve something one cannot accomplish alone

“Yo, so tell me.” Ymir asks over her glass. She tips the whiskey toward Krista in question. “How the hell does a pretty little thing like you get into the business?“

Krista takes a deep drag of her cigarette, holds the smoke in her lungs for a moment before tilting her head back in a long exhale. Ymir follows the long line of her throat, skin soft and delicate like the rest of her, tracks the movement of her throat as she swallows.

It’s striking, really. How this slip of a girl, all sunny smiles and golden hair and so out of place in her dank little apartment, takes root under her skin, twisting and coiling around Ymir’s bones. Striking, how badly she wants Krista under her, wrecked, broken open with Ymir’s name hanging off her lips.

Krista doesn’t look at her when she speaks, voice low and intimate. “I wanted to be a doctor, you know? I wanted to help people—make a difference in peoples’ lives.” She says, staring through the musty window like she can actually see the stars beyond all the smog and light pollution.

Ymir snorts, rests her chin in her hand. “You should try helping yourself first, princess.” She says.

Krista ignores her, but a smile softens her face nonetheless. “My mom wouldn’t help me pay for school– said she couldn’t waste her savings on me, but she still… I don’t know, she still expected a lot from me, I guess.“ She says with a lot less resentment and even less understanding than Ymir would have expected.

She says it with a familiar exhaustion that winds the roots further around her spine, the way Ymir remembers putting her mother to bed with the stench of alcohol clinging to her, slurred excuses hanging low in the air that _it’s okay baby, mommy doesn’t owe you anything else, you’re all grown up now._

The memory burns through her mind, vivid and unwanted. She tips another finger of whiskey into her glass. Krista just sounds too exhausted to be angry, so Ymir says nothing, waits for her to finish her piece instead.

“Even when I graduated high school with scholarships, even with the jobs I worked on top of my course load, I could barely afford school.”

Another drag from the cigarette. “So there I was, in my third year with half a chemistry degree under my belt. Meth isn’t that hard to synthesize you know, not really. Not when you have lab equipment at your disposal. I was a good student, I volunteered—people trusted me.” She says, voice shaking through the irony of it all.

“I knew this guy—everyone knows a guy, or at least of one. He didn’t take me seriously at first, obviously, but my mix proved everything I couldn’t.” She says.

“I started selling, and—” Her voice shakes, and Ymir wants nothing more than to hold her close, or to send her far, far away from all this. “My dad contacted me, actually, right out of the blue—I still don’t even understand how—” She whispers, stares vacantly at an old cigarette burn marring the table.

It’s unsurprising, really, considering who Krista is and the significance Reiss Senior has on the streets. Of course he'd seek her out.

“I was so stupid, Ymir.” She says, finally looking up at her with red-rimmed eyes. “He used me—he blatantly used me, and I let him—I wanted so badly for him to be proud of me—he said he always loved me. And I believed him, like that would just erase the years he left me with my honestly crappy mother.” Her voice breaks. Ymir wants to reach out, wants to hold her, but it’s not her place—will never be her place. She aches with the effort it takes to remain seated.

“I got caught up in it, I guess. Started missing classes, labs—even exams, at one point. My GPA started slipping and I couldn’t maintain the average I needed to keep my scholarships, and what’s even the point of med school if my grades weren’t even competitive? I ended up dropping out before they could kick me out.”

It’s easy to see through this girl, starved for affection with a painted lips and a sickly sweet smile; the way she spreads herself thin for the weakest promises of love that come her wah. Ymir sees this and wants to shake her awake, wants to do right by her. Ymir wishes they lived in a world where she could.

Krista uses the end of her cigarette to light a new one, holds it to her lips in a kiss. “It all went south, eventually—obviously. My dad pretty much left me for dead and I had to get out on my own, I never actually meant anything to him, of course. My mom, who had no idea what was going on, was so disappointed—angry that I didn’t make something of myself, that I embarrassed her.” She shrugs, a loaded movement.

“I ended up leaving, anyway. It was easy; I lost most of my friends by then, anyway. I skipped town, changed my name. My mother hasn’t contacted me in years and my dad could be dead for all I know, and I hope he is.” She finishes, stubs her ashes out on the table.

Krista looks over where Ymir’s seated, watching her intently as she spins her tale. She smiles at her, heartbreakingly innocent even with the crudely stitched slash across her cheek, bloody bandages wrapped around her hands.

“But that part of my life is over now,” she says, red-rimmed eyes crinkling with—what, happiness? Nostalgia? Ymir has no idea.

She sits at the small wooden table, across from Ymir and snags the bottle of whiskey to for a swig. Her face scrunches a little, but other than that, she takes it well. She rests her elbow on the table, chin in hand and watches Ymir with a tenderness that leaves her breathless.

“I’m with you now,” she says, lips quirking, eyes crinkling around the edges. “So don’t screw it up.”

Ymir snorts softly through her nose, thinks it maybe isn’t a bad idea to let Krista grow.

**Author's Note:**

> i've finally come to terms with that fact that this is never getting done and that i know nothing about anything :')


End file.
